Classics and Cliches
by Chellero
Summary: Reese and Carter after their first kiss.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was something I wrote for wolfmusic218's birthday. :) Carter being dead and all that BS? Not happening here.**

"Stalking on private property, huh?" Joss Carter slid into the passenger seat of the Cadillac before closing the door, missing the slight smile that slid across her companion's face. "Security doesn't play around here."

"I'm just a lost guy looking for a friend's house." John Reese lowered the monocular from his face momentarily and glanced in her direction before resuming his spying.

"By sitting here with binoculars." She nodded. "That's gonna go over well." Carter shifted in her seat, making herself more comfortable as her line of sight followed his to a third story window visible just above the shrubbery he had hidden his vehicle behind. She could just barely make out two stationary figures and wondered if they were sitting at a table, eating dinner like normal people at this time of day. It was just before six following a painfully long shift at the precinct, and yet here she was. Decompressing with the most tightly wound person she'd ever known. While he was working. Strangely enough, though, it worked for her. She could relax with him. She wanted to relax with him.

By now, it wasn't the first thing she thought of when she saw him. Enough time had passed to make it the second or third. Seven weeks to be exact. Quinn was still awaiting trial for a multitude of federal offenses. Simmons, too. John had somehow tracked him down and delivered him to her. She had her detective shield back, complete with beaucoup apologies and a hell of a lot of extended goodwill yet to be cashed in.

But she was unsettled. Still.

She turned to him. "So what's the case? Thomason still?"

John lowered his monocular again and shook his head. "New one. Sex, murder, and mayhem."

Joss nodded. "One of those."

"One of those." He turned to look at her. She was wearing delicate diamond stud earrings today. Last night they had been tiny T-shaped gold ones. For "Taylor" he was sure. He swept his eyes quickly over her curly mane of hair. That was something else that had changed about her in the last several weeks. Since that night. She stopped wearing the same hoop earrings and stopped straightening her hair. He'd been wanting to run his fingers through those pillowy soft-looking curls ever since.

"Oh, here." She reached into her suit jacket pocket and retrieved his wallet, holding it out to him. "I didn't look in it so you and Finch don't have to burn it."

He took it and smiled at her. "You can look in my wallet." She knew everything now but she still liked to hold his and Finch's withholding over their heads whenever she got the chance.

Joss ignored the obnoxious rush she felt when his fingers brushed hers as he took possession of his property. She watched as he opened it. Weeks ago she probably wouldn't have noticed. But she was aware of so much now. The way he looked at her, the way he smelled. The way his eyes would change color depending on the angle, the lighting, his mood. Every word out of his soft mouth. Every nerve ending she had became sensitive to everything around her when he was near.

"There was something I wanted to give you anyway." He thumbed through the contents in search of the folded up gift certificate to a nail salon in midtown. Finding it, he handed it to her.

"Thanks." She raised her left eyebrow. "How'd you end up with this?"

"Don't ask." He watched as he got the desired reaction out of her and a small laugh escaped her lips.

"Okay."

"I figured you could use it or knew someone who could. I don't need it."

"You sure about that?" She didn't know why she did it but she reached over and grabbed his right hand, making a show of scrutinizing his nails. He was right. He didn't. They were meticulous. She bet his fucking feet were, too. Accepting he was right and she had nothing left to say about the matter, she set his hand back in his lap and shrugged her shoulder, ignoring the knowing chuckle coming from his side of the car.

She could leave now. If she wanted. He had the wallet he didn't really need- belonging to an alias of his she was sure- back in his possession and he was working. But she stayed anyway. She would give it a few more minutes. Her time alone with him. She wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe a part of her was hoping the more time she spent with him, the greater her chances were of resolving whatever was unsettling her spirit.

They were silent as he resumed his spying. So it came.

She had been flattered, shocked when he told her. How much she meant to him. That she'd made him consider living instead of the alternative. That she'd changed him. And in that moment, just like that, their entire relationship changed.

She had never known. She remembered vividly how entranced she was, the lump in her throat, the feel of his palm against her cheek as her heartbeat thrummed vociferously in her ears. She remembered the bullet she'd unknowingly kept him from using on himself, the one he left with her in case he didn't come back. The bullet now occupying a space in the bottom drawer of her jewelry box along with her wedding band, purple heart, and Taylor's first lost tooth.

The way he told her he couldn't lose her. And how, just when she thought he'd closed that window to his soul, after his short stint in jail, he'd told her he wanted his last moments spent with her. Not with Harold. Not alone. With her. She'd swallowed that lump in her throat once more as she looked at him and tried not to be overwhelmed before he offered her a ride home. The weight of it all then and now was almost suffocating.

And he had kissed her.

They never spoke of it. Not a hint, not a thinly veiled reference, not a ghost of a knowing smile. She felt she owed him that much. After all, he'd never mentioned how desperately she'd clung to him when she thought he was going to die from the bomb he'd been strapped to. He'd never mentioned how she'd lost her damn mind wanting to save him when she had a child at home. Instead they went about their business just like they were going about their business now. But this time was different. This time their emotions weren't only in their eyes, subtly lacing their actions. This time they had attached themselves to words, to a kiss. To words and a kiss that were now following them wherever they went like the lingering scent from a rose on a rainy day.

"How was your day?"

Joss was jolted from her thoughts at his prompt. "Okay. Behind my desk all day."

"Any problems with Raymond last night?"

"Ask Fusco. I gave him to him."

Reese chuckled. "Bet that made his night."

She smiled. "If you say so. He didn't talk to me all day."

"He'll come around. I don't know anybody who can stay mad at you for long."

Her stomach fluttered slightly. It was beginning to get on her nerves. How everything he said took on several new dimensions. To distract herself, she changed the discourse. Nodding toward the building his eyes were glued to, she asked, "So who's the case?"

"Angela Devereaux. Personal, uh, companion. _Married_ personal companion."

She followed his line of sight. "Oh, that's fun."

"Definitely interesting." John turned to her briefly as she chuckled to herself. "What?"

"Nothing. Just every time I hear that last name I think of Blanche from _The Golden Girls._"

He turned back to Devereaux who was still seated at the table. "Sophia was the best." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her whip her head back to him as he knew she would.

"You watched _The Golden Girls_?"

"Reruns come on all the time, Joss." There was a lilt to his voice. He was teasing her.

At that, she sat back in her seat, turning her entire body to face him, arms crossed with a twinkle in her eye and a curve to her lips. "Okay. Let's try this one: Julia, Suzanne, Charlene, or Mary Jo?" Her smile got wider as he answered without hesitation.

"Anthony."

She nodded as her face lit up. It was on now. "Max, Khadijah, Synclaire, or Regine?" She watched as his face contorted slightly. Like he was thinking when he really wasn't. She would be damned if he actually watched _Living Single_, too.

"Probably a tie between Max and Regine. But I have a soft spot for Kyle and Overton, too." At that, he lowered the monocular once again and smiled innocently at her slightly dropped jaw. "Surprised?" She was goddamned beautiful when she was speechless.

Drawing her chin back up, she had to admit he had surprised her. And she was suddenly finding herself wanting to go through an exhaustive list of classic TV shows just to see if he had watched any of them, and then relax on his couch and watch them with him. "I'm impressed." She was. He'd peeled back a couple of layers and she wanted to know more. His favorite movies, music, books, food. She wanted to know what made him laugh. She wanted to see him laugh. Not the usual chuckle she got out of him. A full-bellied, tear-inducing, stomach-cramping, knee-slapping guffaw. She wanted to see him relaxed and happy. Truly happy.

She wanted to know him.

He wanted to be with her.

Thinking back, he didn't know what compelled him to tell her how much she meant to him. He had had an ominous feeling he supposed. She had been determined to bring HR down on her own no matter how often he offered his help. She hadn't seemed to realize it wasn't an offer. He _needed_ to help her. He needed to know she was going to be okay. He needed to know no one was going to hurt her. But she'd rejected it. She'd rejected him and gone off the grid after pitting two violent criminal organizations against one another.

Something snapped in him.

Before she reached out to him, he had emotionally snapped. He wouldn't show it but he had. He was helpless and worried and he wanted to throttle her and shield her when he found her. Fortunately, she'd eventually let him in but the feeling stayed with him.

That was it. Probably. Why he'd done what he did while they were cornered. Said what he'd said. She had terrified him like no one before her and the uncharted territory had sent him reeling. Talk about death and close calls in the morgue had turned him into an open book. The words came. Easily. So did the kiss. So did the resolve to sacrifice himself for her if it came to it. So did the goodbye in the bullet as a thank you. As something to remember him by. As a tangible representation of his heart that she held and that he'd leave with her. Forever. Letting go of it, the power it had held over him for so long, leaving it with her, had given him peace. He wouldn't kill himself over sorrow, without purpose. If he was going to go, it was going to have meaning. It was going to be to give her life. And he was going to be happy at the end. Because he'd shared the last of his life with her.

But he'd made it. They'd made it. And only the aftermath remained. There was no regret. In fact, it had lifted a weight from his shoulders. He loved her. Before that night he would have never labeled it a romantic love. He had had his reasons, his denials. But it was. It had been for awhile. He knew, deep down, she knew it, too.

He continued to smile softly while he stared at her. She was looking at him with a mix of wonderment, curiosity, and openness. He liked that look. He wanted to give her more. He wanted to share more of himself with her. It wasn't long, however, before her attention turned elsewhere. Straight ahead at the uniformed gentleman warily but steadily approaching.

"We got company."

John only thought about it for a second. He turned back to her. "Joss," he eased into her personal space. "Go with it."

She went rigid at first. From the surprise. _Jesus_. It wasn't tender this time. His kiss. But she melted into it, into him, anyway. He leaned across the center console, across her body, kissing her with a fake urgency that was meant for show. Plundering hands that were meant to convince. Teasing tongue meant to persuade. Her right hand went to the back of his neck, her left to the side of his face. She whimpered. She moaned. Her heart pounded so loudly her ears were ringing. All for show, all to convince and persuade.

Oh, the lies she could tell herself.

The tap on the driver's side window put an end to the performance. The look of irritation John plastered on his face as he relinquished his hold on Carter and turned to roll down the window was real.

"Private property. Take it somewhere else."

John's forced smile and nod were enough as the security guard ducked down lower to peer at Carter before stepping back from the vehicle. She mustered up the best embarrassed smile she could to continue the charade, trying her hardest to control the heaving of her chest and ignore the river gushing between her thighs. As she heard him start the engine and roll the window back up, she turned in her seat and faced forward, inhaling and exhaling measuredly while John steered the car back onto the residential street. The air was still charged. She still felt him all over her. And she knew it was over. The reprieve he'd given her. He hadn't just revoked it; he'd ripped it from her clutches, shredded it at her feet, and stomped on it for good measure. He could be a cruel son of a bitch when he wanted to be. She wasn't ready yet. She was not ready.

She was almost startled when he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Where'd you park?" He was going to have to come back on foot after he dropped her off.

She straightened up in her seat and cleared her own throat. "Bottom of the hill, turn right. I'm on the street."

He nodded once and adjusted himself in his seat, not caring if she noticed just how well he'd gotten into his role. He hadn't only been trying to convince the security guard they were a couple; he realized as soon as his lips touched hers for the second time that he had been trying to convince her, too.

Reaching the bottom of the hill, they waited silently for traffic to pass so they could make the right turn. Joss knew she wasn't going to make it out of the car unscathed. Not after what they'd just done. Not this time. So she tried to control the scathing. "I could have flashed my badge."

He looked to his left one final time before making the right and pulling into traffic. "Why didn't you?" He knew her answer before he asked. He knew he was just being contrary by asking. He knew he hadn't given her the opportunity to. He also knew that as soon as they started kissing, she became just as lost in it as he had. Of course they could have used her badge. Or the star and badge he had. Or claimed they were lost or pulling over to safely answer a phone call or any number of things. But that wasn't what this was really about. He spotted her car on the street and pulled up behind it, putting the vehicle in park.

She looked at him incredulously. "Did you give me the chance?"

"My fault you didn't move fast enough?" He smirked at her.

She squinted her eyes as she shook her head at him, smiling in spite of herself. He was the king of annoying the hell out of her. And damn could he kiss. She turned to look out the windshield, focusing on the back of her SUV. "Real cliche, too."

He shrugged his right shoulder. "Maybe." He studied her profile. "Or maybe I just wanted to kiss you again."

She whipped her head back to look at him. No, she wasn't leaving unscathed. That look of his. The depth in his eyes. She was back in the morgue all over again. He was as open as ever again. And she wasn't ready. She tried to make light of his statement and forced a laugh. "So you admit it. You just wanted to kiss me."

He spoke softly, not taking his eyes from her face. He wasn't laughing. "I admit it. Just wondering if you will."

She swallowed and her heart began beating wildly again. _Fuck him._ Seconds passed. Maybe even a full minute. She turned from him then, eyes staring through the windshield at nothing in particular. "It's…..It's messy, John. And I know life's messy, it's just..." Her voice trailed off. Vigilantism was his bread and butter. It wasn't very rational but she could accept befriending him. Helping him help others. Break the law she was sworn to uphold to save a life. But sleeping with him? Falling in love with him? The line tried to blur but she had fought all this time to keep it solid. It didn't matter that either way, if she got caught aiding and abetting him, she'd be going down. The truth that she had chosen to ignore for so long was that she had forged her fate with his the minute she heard the name Andrea Gutierrez.

A sigh escaped her. It was pointless now. "I admit it." She turned back to him. "But you see where I'm coming from, don't you?" She watched as he nodded, looking introspective as he watched the cars go by ahead of them. He got it. Of course he did. They both got it. Their damn hearts, though. They would never get it.

She reached for the door handle. "Anyway, you need to get back to work and I gotta get ready to pick my mom up in an hour. Her car's having issues again." She pulled on the door handle before turning back to look at him. His face was neutral. She was grateful for that. "We'll work it out. Probably," she added. She smiled to match the one that crept across his features and closed her eyes as he leaned over and gently cupped the back of her curly head with his right hand before placing a kiss to her forehead.

He pulled back from her slightly, eyes switching back and forth between hers. Those big, brown, beautiful eyes he always struggled not to get lost in. "Probably." When he noticed his eyes drifting to her mouth, he pulled back until he was no longer occupying both his seat and hers.

She had to go. It was time. "Goodnight." She opened her door and climbed out, not exhaling until the chilly winter air hit her face. She wanted to say something else. But she only managed that one word, and she barely heard the "Goodnight," he tossed after her before her door closed.

She crossed the front of his vehicle, feeling his eyes on her, before climbing into hers. There was no probably about it. They were going to figure it out a lot sooner than she thought.

* * *

Carter walked up the steps to her apartment the following week, arms laden with bags. She was returning from buying a few things at the grocery store. And a couple pairs of shoes. She shrugged to herself. She was an emotional shopper. It was expected. Because hers were all over the place.

She frowned when she noticed the package just outside her door. She couldn't recall ordering anything. It was probably Taylor's. Managing to unlock and open the door without dropping her bags, she dumped them and her purse on the couch before walking back to the door to retrieve the box. _Jocelyn Carter. Hmm._

Carrying it into the kitchen, she wondered what the hell it was. It was medium-sized and a bit on the heavy side. From Amazon. Frowning again, she set the box on the counter and grabbed the scissors. Once it was open, she couldn't stop the grin that plastered itself on her face. "No he did not," she said to no one in particular. "That man." Still grinning, she shook her head and gathered up the groceries- and shoes- she'd left on the couch, bringing them to the kitchen as well. Pulling her phone out of her coat pocket, she dialed John's number.

"Carter?"

"You busy?"

Reese unconsciously drifted away from where Finch and Shaw stood at the desk in the library. "Not when you call."

Damn him. He had her grinning and blushing like a fool. It was not helping her tough-as-nails cop persona one bit. "I got a package today."

"That's nice."

She rolled her eyes. "Thank you. I had always meant to buy these." These being the complete series box sets of _The Golden Girls_ and _Designing Women_. And the only season of _Living Single_ released so far.

"You're welcome."

She leaned on the counter. "So, when we gonna do this?"

"Do what?" He was only slightly embarrassed by his first thought at her choice of words.

"Sit down and watch 'em?" She straightened up when she heard Taylor bounding down the stairs.

"You're inviting me over?" He was glad he wasn't facing his co-workers. The grin on his face was so wide he felt his lips crack.

"You bought me things. Of course." She watched as her son went through the bags and started putting the groceries away. He lifted the lid from her shoe boxes and side-eyed her.

"All it took, huh?"

"Yep." She unconsciously turned away from her son.

"Wonder what would happen if I fed you."

Damn him again. "Good things probably."

"I'll keep it in mind."

She turned back to her son, playfully slapping the shoe out of his hand as he gawked at it. "Anyway, thanks again. I won't keep you. I know you're busy."

"Anytime, Joss." Hanging up, he wiped the grin from his face before sauntering back over to the duo.

Shaw shook her head at him, the ever-present scowl on her face. "Why don't you just move in already?"

* * *

"What do you have?" Reese tapped his ear piece and waited for a response as he drove through traffic.

"This fool Nolan's got sixteen priors, John." Carter sat at her desk in the precinct, eyes glued to her computer screen as she scanned through the list of charges. "Petty theft, drunk and disorderly, a couple DUIs, criminal possession of a controlled substance…I mean, clearly, jail is his own special vacation spot."

"Nonviolent offenses, mostly." Reese frowned as he thought. Maybe he wasn't the one coming after their number.

"Well, he was arrested on a domestic charge." She quickly read through the incident report. "Said the girlfriend started it. She concurred, too. Cops took them both in."

"What's the girlfriend's name?"

"Wendy Tessler."

"She have a record?"

"Hold on." Carter grabbed the mouse and made several clicks.

"By the way, how'd it go yesterday?"

Carter held the phone between her shoulder and ear as she typed. She smiled. "He passed."

Reese chuckled. "We better warn the populace, Carter."

"Hey, quit talking about my baby. I'm nervous enough as it is."

"He'll be fine." John couldn't help but be proud. Taylor Carter was an officially licensed operator of a motor vehicle.

"I hope so. Okay, here we go…..Besides the DV thing, just a speeding ticket a year ago."

"Okay, thank you."

"So what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking you should grab your coat and meet me outside." He got out of the car, locked it, and stuck his hands in his coat pockets as he walked toward the precinct.

"What?"

"It's lunchtime. I'm here to feed you."

* * *

Joss Carter sat in the warmth of her idling SUV outside John Reese's apartment Saturday evening waiting for him to emerge. She almost couldn't believe it really. That he'd agreed to go with her. And work hadn't interfered with their plans. But, then again, if she kept it real with herself, she knew what was up. What he was doing. What they both were doing. All the casual, "spontaneous" lunches, rarer but equally "spontaneous" dinners he suggested. All the interest in Taylor's activities and well-being. All the questions about her life, family, and friends. All the time they were spending together in the past month and a half since the Devereaux stakeout where less and less was spent on the numbers Finch's machine gave them.

The man was wooing her. He was wooing her through her son, food, and classic television. All things she loved. The mint cookies 'n cream and red velvet cookies he had waiting for her in her apartment when she got home on Valentine's Day a couple weeks ago hadn't hurt either. The man was wooing her on the sly and trying to make her fat and she liked it.

And it was the reason she was sitting outside his apartment now after inviting him to the Paint By Numbers event at Pisces Too in Manhattan. She'd heard about it at work for the umpteenth time and was going to invite a girlfriend or two to go with her. It was going to be a casual event replete with drinks and paint and socializing where ticket proceeds would go to the Holy Apostles soup kitchen. It sounded like a fun, relaxing affair and went with her New Year's resolution to try new things. But before she could think of which of her friends to invite, John crossed her mind, like he was doing damn near all the time lately.

So she asked him.

She asked him in spite of not really being able to see him going to such an event of his own accord. She asked him knowing he wouldn't say no. She asked him because she wanted to enjoy him. Smiling, she watched as he opened the passenger side door and slid into his seat. He smelled as good as he looked. It tickled her pink every time she saw him out of his suit. It was dark jeans and a hunter green winter scarf and a dark brown leather jacket tonight and she liked every bit of it.

"Sorry I took so long." Shaw had taken her dear, sweet time coming to relieve him so he could get ready for his date with Carter. He had had precisely thirteen minutes to shower and shave and make himself presentable before she was due to arrive. He hadn't had a damn thing to eat since lunch either. He knew one thing for certain: Shaw had better sleep with one eye open.

Carter put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot before they started on their way. "I wasn't waiting long. Maybe five minutes."

He had only had a second to look at her while the car's interior light was on when he climbed in but it had been enough to know he was going to have trouble keeping his hands to himself. She wore some sparkly dangling earrings this time. And a headband or scarf of some sort to keep her curly hair off her face. She wore dark jeans, too, and a cobalt blue wool coat. He knew it was bad when he couldn't wait for her to get out of the car to see what adorned her feet. Boots, pumps, flats, he didn't care. But he wanted to know. "Where I'm from you don't keep beautiful women waiting."

She smiled and blushed at the compliment as she drove, streetlights and oncoming headlights casting streaks across her face. "You smell good. What is that?"

"Eros I think." He didn't just think. He knew. The god of love. It wasn't on purpose but he approved once it hit him.

She nodded, finding herself making a mental note that he liked vanilla and mint scents. With a hint of lemon. It worked well with his body chemistry. So well she wanted to crawl into his lap and envelope herself in it right now. Smell it on herself later. _Lord have mercy._ She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and focused on driving.

* * *

"I am no good at this, Babe. Keeping it in the lines? Too much damn pressure." Michael, one of their unofficial tablemates, took his seat next to his girlfriend and laughed.

She nodded and laughed with him. "Picasso you are not, that's for sure."

"Why you gotta be like that, though?"

"You denying it?"

"No, but you don't have to be like that in front of people and shit." He indicated Carter, the joking smile plastered on his face.

Lauren turned to Carter. "Did he or did he not start talking shit about his own damn self when he sat down?" She laughed and bumped her man's shoulder.

Carter laughed at them both and took a sip of her drink, shaking her head. They were a ridiculously handsome couple, and hilarious on top of it. His long dreads pulled into a low, loose ponytail, perfectly white teeth, and honey skin complemented her perfectly coiffed afro and blemish-free mahogany complexion. She couldn't help but wonder if they were models. "I can't talk. I won't be quitting my day job anytime soon."

She turned to see how John was coming along with his painting. His section had been larger than hers, which was why he was still up there and she was off her feet. As he seemed to do with everything else, he was concentrating fiercely, like he was going to get graded for his efforts. It was adorable. She loved to watch him, the way he turned his head to get a better angle, the way he smiled and occasionally spoke to his neighbor painter as they accidentally bumped into each other. He was one of the taller people at the function and she watched as he helped an impossibly short woman reach one of her number's areas. Catching herself staring, she turned from him and looked at how the painting was coming along after three rounds of numbers. There was likely to be one more before it was finished. It was a simple nature scene, with a lake and a boat and a cabin, but it was surprisingly full of depth and had come together quite nicely. She looked around at the people milling about. There were drinks and finger food, music and conversations, laughter and camaraderie. People of all ages, including children, were there having a good time doing something for a good cause.

"So what do you do?"

Carter's attention was turned back to Lauren. "I'm a cop, actually. Homicide detective." It was always interesting the responses she would get from people, most of them obnoxious and cringe-worthy.

"Really. I've never actually met a cop before. How do you like it? It's probably not easy being a woman in that field."

Carter decided she really liked her new friend. She recalled what she'd spent last year doing and shrugged. "It's a lot better now. And, no, it's not easy. Everybody always tests you. Suspects _and_ cops." She watched as Lauren nodded. "What about you two?" She asked quickly. She didn't want them inquiring about what John did.

Lauren pointed to herself. "Law school right now." She pointed to Michael. "Social worker. Between the two of us, broke as a damn joke, girl." She laughed.

"Tell me about it. It is hard out there." Joss took another sip of her drink, glancing to her left as John finally joined them. "I'm trying to scrape up enough to help my mom get her car fixed."

"The hell were you doing up there, bruh? Trying to finish the rest of it yourself?" Michael teased John as he sat down.

Joss turned to him. "You were up there a long time." She reached over to wipe at a smudge of paint on his cheekbone with her thumb. "I thought I was going to have to come help you out."

"Number 22 needed some help." He wanted to suck that thumb into his mouth.

She removed the paint from his face and picked up a napkin to wipe the remnants from her skin. "Uh huh. More like needed you to do the whole thing for her." There was only teasing in her voice.

John shrugged his shoulder and reached for his watered-down drink. "She had a lot of high ones."

Michael piped up. "See what we get when we try to be gentlemen?"

Reese chortled. "Sometimes I don't think we can win."

"We can't, okay? We absolutely cannot!" Michael laughed when Lauren playfully punched him in the shoulder.

Joss side-eyed John's innocent _What?_ face as she rose. "I'll be back. Bathroom."

Five minutes later she returned to the table where they were all laughing over something or other. By the time she sat down, though, the conversation shifted. She froze in her seat for a second when she realized where it had shifted back to.

"So we got a detective. What do you do, man?"

Carter relaxed slightly as John answered without missing a beat. She was going to have to learn how to answer that question if they were going to be together. She froze again after she realized what she had just thought.

"I'm in security." John watched as Michael nodded, popping the last of his pretzels into his mouth.

"Network or personal?"

"Both. Can't do one without the other."

Michael nodded. "True. So what is that? Bodyguard services? Stuff like that?"

Joss cringed internally. People asked too many damn questions. This wouldn't work. They couldn't tell people the truth and there were too many lies to keep straight. What the hell would she tell her friends? Her mother? It was one thing to control the discourse in a contained environment like Rikers. In the real world, oftentimes a small world, one or two people running into another couple people could spell disaster for them. She wouldn't look at John as he continued to weave his tale.

Reese nodded. "Mostly. It's just a small company."

"Oh, do you own it?"

"With my partner."

Michael nodded. "Small business owners. That's what I want to get into someday, you know? So what kind of people hire you?"

Carter tried to keep the nonchalance in her body language. But this was killing her. What was with the 20 questions? New damn topic, please.

Reese smiled. "People with money."

Lauren and Michael nodded and laughed before new numbers were called for the final round. John and Joss watched as their companions rose to go to the painting. She looked at him, grateful for the save. He winked at her and she shook her head at him. He had been trained to lie and was quick on his feet. Of course he would have no problem with the questions. Of course he and Finch would protect themselves with a "small business partnered" dummy company. Just like they had with John Warren and Howard French. Hell, he probably had business cards in his wallet in case anyone asked for one. She wondered if she would ever be comfortable with it, though. The lies. Or who she would be if she ever did.

* * *

The foursome walked out of the building when the event was over, still casually chatting. The night was young; it was only about ten o'clock but the temperature had dropped considerably. The women stuck their hands in their coat pockets and bounced up and down as they wrapped up their conversation and prepared to say their goodbyes, their breath visible before disappearing into the night sky. The men laughed one final time before extending their hands to one another.

"Alright, man. It was good to meet you. Take care now." Michael shook John's hand before turning to shake Joss's. He then placed his hand at the small of Lauren's back. "Alright, sweetie, let's roll."

John was about to extend his hand toward Lauren before she suddenly became animated and he stopped short.

"Hey, we're about to go down to The Wolf's Den. They have a really good old school R&B band and the kitchen is open 'til midnight. You guys want to come?"

Reese stepped over to Carter and instinctively pulled her back against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down her arms as she shivered in the cold.

She craned her head back and up in his general direction. She was tired. She just couldn't hang all night long like she used to, but she was hungry. "You want to?"

John's stomach rumbled against her back. "Up to you."

It was too cold for indecisiveness so she gave them an affirmative answer. "Let's go. It's cold out here." She felt John grab her shoulders and turn her around to face him. She continued to shiver against the cold wind as he removed his scarf and wrapped it around her neck.

"Is it far?" Reese asked. He would go get Carter's SUV while she waited inside the building they'd just exited.

Michael shook his head. "Nah, we can walk it." He pointed down the street. "Few blocks over on Baird."

Together, they hurried down the street to the restaurant and bar.

* * *

It was nearly one thirty in the morning by the time Carter and Reese pulled up in front of his loft. The music had been good, the food had been good, the company had been good. They had both had such a good time they forgot their earlier exhaustion and couldn't believe it when they realized how late it was.

They'd driven home mostly in silence, a comfortable one while their thoughts kept them occupied. She felt restless, almost giddy. She could blame it on the alcohol but she'd only had one drink. It was more of a high. A contact high from him. Seeing him smile and laugh so much. He had seemed genuinely relaxed. Happy. It was impossibly sexy coming from him.

It felt good. It felt good being in his company. It felt good being part of a "couple." It felt good being by his side, being in his arms as he tried to shield her from the cold. Having him go to the bar to order her drink and bring it to her. Having his arm on the back of her chair as she rocked in her seat to the music. Being told to stay inside while he walked those blocks in the cold to get her car and pick her up. It felt good being his for the night.

She was in so much damn trouble.

Putting her car in park, John turned to her when she spoke.

"So that wasn't too terrible, was it?"

He smiled to himself and shook his head before he responded. "I had a good time."

She nodded. "I could tell. I don't think I've ever seen you smile that much." She reached out and ran her left hand lightly on the right side of his face before turning his head to stroke the left side. "Your cheeks are sore, aren't they? You're about to go upstairs and take some Advil and go to sleep, aren't you?"

John stretched his neck and looked in the rear view mirror, stroking the lower half of his face as if checking to see if he needed a shave. "No, I think the alcohol dulled the pain."

"Oh, well, okay. They're gonna be sore in the morning then." She gave him a bright smile. "Thanks for coming with me, John. I had a good time, too. Best night I've had in awhile." It was so far from an understatement she almost hated to admit it to herself. It seriously meant trouble of the worst kind.

"It's always the best night, Joss, when I'm with you." He looked at her. Inside her. Through her. It wasn't hyperbole and he wanted her to know it.

She swallowed. The way he was looking at her, she felt the air jolt. She felt it in the tiny bones of her toes. Why in God's name was he doing this to her? She wanted all of him in the rawest way. It was starting to override her common sense. Her dominant rational side. Unsure of how long he held her in his metaphorical grip, her eyes lowered to his hand as he reached over to unbuckle her seat belt. She watched as he then undid his own and opened the door and climbed out. He had let her go but she was still feeling the effects when he rounded the car and opened her door. She willed her brain to function. Following the rules of logic, the next step was to get out. So she did. That accomplished, she got out of the way of the door closing and felt his hand at her lower back. Silently, he guided her back to the driver's side, opening the door wide for her.

But she was still feeling the effects.

She didn't climb in. Instead she reached up and pulled his head down so that she could suck his tongue into her mouth. It was cold as hell outside but she wanted nothing more than to feel him pull her bottom lip between his teeth before sucking the last of her after dinner mint into his mouth. She wanted nothing more than to feel the hair at the nape of his neck beneath her fingertips as he pulled her so tightly against him she was lifted from the ground. She got everything she wanted. This was the third time they had done this. And it got exponentially more passionate each time.

Cold oxygen hit their lungs when they had no choice but to let one another breathe. He lowered her to her feet but their eyes continued what their lips had started. He deciphered and understood that look of desperation clawing at her eyes and closed her door, taking her right hand in his left and dragging her across the quiet parking lot toward the lobby door of his building. He wondered if they would make it to his bed. He wondered why he didn't just pull her back inside the car so he could be inside her sooner.

Inside the still lobby, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, feel his heart pounding almost painfully in his chest. Nervous energy causing the hand that reached out for the elevator button to shake. He swallowed. He couldn't believe what was happening to him. He had lost control over his body, over himself. This never happened. He needed it to stop before he lost control of his actions and stripped her of her clothes and her composure inside this elevator car.

The door opened immediately and as they entered his stomach dropped; the phone in his back pocket was buzzing. Rage blinded him for a second before he closed his eyes and dropped Joss's hand. Only five people called him, and the only one he wanted to give his attention to was already here. Taking a calming breath, he pulled it out of his pocket, turning to face her as he answered. He saw it in her eyes already: understanding and disappointment. He probably looked absolutely devastated.

His voice was remarkably even as he spoke into the phone. "What is it, Shaw?"

"Get your tongue from down Carter's throat and meet me back up here. I need an assist."

Not dignifying that with a response, he sighed to himself and hung up. Shaw only asked for help if it was beyond absolutely necessary, so he knew he had to go. He looked at Joss and pressed the button to open the elevator doors. They had never pressed the button for his floor so they were still at ground level.

"Duty calls." It wasn't a question. She exited the elevator with him at his nod. Stunned. In a bit of a daze. Like her brain hadn't quite processed the rapid turn of events. She had to concentrate, focus. Put one foot in front of the other, walk through the door, and back to her car. Rational Jocelyn was coming back to the helm. Finally. That phone call had woken her ass back up. It was a sign. She was sure of it. One that signaled they needed to slow things down. She had left her damn purse in the car and didn't even lock the doors for God's sake.

Once they quickly reached her vehicle, he again opened the door for her and waited until she settled herself inside. Looking apologetic and mourning what was going to be a devastatingly perfect end to their evening, he asked her to send him a text when she made it home safely and quickly raced to his car. Shifting his focus to where it needed to be, he mentally went over the weapons he had stashed in his car that he would need to quickly stash on his person.

For them, for the evening they were going to have, he'd left his guns and knives and bulletproof shirt at home. So they could be like everyone else. So they could be normal. For just one night.


	2. Chapter 2

Carter's frown as she hung up her cellphone caught Fusco's attention as he sat across from her. He grimaced as he shifted in his seat, the pastries and coffee from this morning having done something to make his stomach retaliate against him. "What's up, Carter?"

"I don't know." She was running it over in her mind but it wasn't making complete sense. It had to have been some kind of scam. But what kind of scam would result in this? "I just got off the phone with my mother. She said someone just delivered a brand new car to her. Said she'd won some kind of contest and it was legit."

Fusco's grimace turned into curiosity. "Really?"

"Yeah. But she says she doesn't remember entering anything recently."

"Well, she might have forgot. Maybe one of her friends entered her into something. You know those 'Win a car' things they have at the mall sometimes. I've entered a bunch of people in one of those before." He recalled the spam and telemarketing calls painfully.

Carter shrugged her shoulder halfheartedly. "I guess…..Something just seems funny about it. I mean, she definitely needed the car, but I don't know."

"Well that's good then. If somebody dropped a car on her doorstep, and she's still got all her money in her account, I say get it while the gettin's good. It's not like Oprah's giving away cars anymore."

Carter smiled and shook her head at him briefly.

"What kind of car is it?"

"A 2014 Lexus GS." She enunciated each word deliberately.

Fusco whistled.

"Exactly. Blue just like her Camry that's dying on her."

"Yeah, I remember you telling me about that…"

"I know." She sighed. "I don't know. Something's just weird about all this. Or maybe it is just a coincidence." She picked up the paper she had just scribbled on. "She gave me the name of the sweepstakes company so I'm gonna look 'em up."

"What's the name?"

"Waxbill Alliance Sweepstakes is what she said was on the information."

Fusco nodded and went back to his research while she started hers. Five minutes in, he looked up at her and spoke quietly. "You could ask Glasses to do some digging. You know that's his thing."

He was right. It was. And why not? "Good idea." She grabbed her cell phone from her desk and headed down the hall a bit, away from as many prying ears as was possible without leaving the building entirely. She dialed Harold's number.

"Yes, Joss?"

It was still strange hearing her first name come out of his mouth. She could have sworn he honestly thought "Detective" was the name her mother gave her. He must have felt a closer kinship with her since she finally told him she knew about their machine. Also since he most likely heard everything John said to her in the morgue. It was okay, though. She could get used to it. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Not at all." He typed away furiously at the keyboard. "Was there something I could help you with?"

"There is actually. I wondered if you could do something for me. Look into a company. Owner, history. See if it's legit."

Finch looked up from his screens. "Your resources aren't sufficient?"

"My resources are…..slower." She really was becoming delinquent the more time she spent with Harold and John.

He smiled to himself. What a difference two-and-a-half years made. "The name?"

"Waxbill Alliance Sweepstakes."

_That did not take long._ He decided he would tell her. Because it wasn't an active secret. More of a passive one. If she ever asked, they'd tell her. "You've come to the right place in that case."

Her brow furrowed. "Okaaaay."

"It's my company, Detective."

"Wait. It was you?" Her gut wasn't wrong. She knew something was fishy. "You bought my mom the car?"

"I made the arrangements, yes, but at John's request. He bought the car."

_John_. Her mouth hung open a little longer than necessary. It was from the shock, the disbelief, the way her heart swelled, the tears that threatened. He did this for her mom? She couldn't even remember mentioning her mother's car situation to him. _And how the hell much does Finch pay him?_

She swallowed, trying to keep her tears at bay. She hated that man. She hated him so much. "Thanks, Harold." It was all she could say at the moment. She was dangerously close to being speechless as it really hit her. Her mom not having to stress over her car anymore. Being able to come and go as she pleased again while she was still able-bodied enough to do so. No more scheduling her doctor's appointments around other people's schedules. Both of them no longer needing to save up enough money to get her car fixed.

Hanging up, she made her way to the ladies' room in order to get herself together. She hated him so damn much. She wanted to tell him so. Wanting to speak to him privately, she planned to get her coat and sit in her car and call him. Today was Monday. She hadn't spoken to him since that Saturday night. Noticing by Sunday evening she hadn't heard from him, she sent him a text to make sure he- and Shaw- were still alive. It took forty-five minutes to get a response. _Yes. You're still stuck with me._

On her way back to her desk, however, she changed her mind. This wasn't a phone call kind of conversation. She couldn't squeeze the hell out of him through telephone lines. She couldn't kiss his face through her words. If she didn't have a long night at work, she would go to his place. Do all of those things in person.

Fusco was still at his desk when she returned. She sat on the corner next to his Pepto Bismol. "The car came from John."

Fusco raised his eyebrows and nodded. When Wonder Boy went after a woman, he didn't mess around. He wondered how soon he and Carter would make the announcement. "He knows my private jet's under the weather, right?"

* * *

Joss pulled up to John's apartment around eight o'clock that night. She almost just went straight home after the day she'd had at work, but her options were an empty apartment and some wine, or John and maybe some wine. The part of her that was sprung knew there was no choice really. Still, she'd let the other part of her pretend there was one for a few minutes before eventually making that left instead of the right that would take her home. She noticed the lights on his apartment as she pulled up and was relieved to know he was home and she was going to be able to surprise him for once. Before she got out, though, she started to question the wisdom of her plan. John probably wasn't the guy to surprise if she wasn't in the mood for a gun in her face. She thought about the poor Girl Scouts of Manhattan and decided to let him know she was outside before knocking on his door.

John eased himself into the hot water of the tub and leaned back. The slightly too hot water shocked and then eased the tension from his muscles. He was tired. He knew he was tired because he was sitting his ass in a bathtub on a Monday night. It wasn't something he did. His body was exhausted and he couldn't get Joss Carter out of his mind, so his mind was worn out, too. The last time he had been this frustrated was probably when he was a teenager. This was on another level, though. No one would do but her. No one. His heart was wrapped up in the lust this time. It had been over a decade since he'd made love to a woman he was in love with and the withdrawal was beginning to keep him up at night. He absently wondered when she'd taken his patience along with his heart.

He reached for the cold beer bottle on the side of the tub and took a long drag. He would call her when he got out. Check in on her. He missed her voice. He'd been busy since their date Saturday night and thought she wouldn't appreciate a non-emergency call from him in the middle of the night when he finally got home. He thought back to that night. She had been ready. He had been more than ready. Nothing was stopping them. They had been so close. So damn close. He sighed heavily. If he wasn't careful, she was going to strip him of his sanity, too.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard his phone vibrate on the floor beside the tub. He cursed in his mind. That was a full two minutes of relaxation. Only five people called him: Joss, Finch, Fusco, Shaw. And Zoe still had his number if she ever needed his help for anything. Odds were slim it was the one person he wanted to hear from.

He looked at the caller id and smiled. Evidently, the odds were in his favor tonight. He handled the phone gingerly in his wet hands. "Joss?"

"I'm outside."

He sat up, the water sloshing along the sides of the tub. "My door?" He looked toward the half open bathroom door and then to the floor where his towel should have been.

"In my car outside. Just wanted to make sure you won't shoot when I come up. I wanted to talk to you for a minute. You busy?"

"Just taking a bath." _And thinking about you._ "Let yourself in. I'll be out in a minute."

Carter frowned. A bath? Him? "A bath, John?"

He smiled. "Yes. A bath, Joss."

She could admit it. This was something she wouldn't mind seeing. One day. Soon. "I'll be up in a minute." She hung up, grabbed her purse, and climbed out of the car. She entered the building, made her way up to his floor, and used her key to enter his place.

It was impeccably clean like the few other times she'd been here. Lights were on, TV as well. She dropped her bag on the couch and removed her coat, placing it over the back. Wanting to let him know she'd arrived, she walked past his kitchen and around the corner, seeing the bathroom door half open. She knocked. "I'm here."

"Do me a favor?"

Her expression turned suspicious. "What?"

All he had to do was drip on the rugs and floor to where he'd left his towel on the towel rack. But just when he'd decided to do just that, he changed his mind. Because the situation was ripe. And she'd taken his patience. "I forgot my towel. Get it for me?"

She hesitated. For a moment. Something in his voice. Whenever he was messing with her, it would become slightly higher pitched than normal. But it was somehow lower, somehow softer now. She steeled herself as her heart began to pound. He was naked in there. And wet. And she had no idea how Sprung Jocelyn she was going to react to a naked and wet John Reese.

Throat bone dry, she pushed the door open. He was relaxed, back against the far end of the tub, right arm resting over the edge, beer in his hand, eyes heavy on her.

Without a word, she tried to ignore the heat rays being catapulted her way and looked around for his towel rack. Spying it across the wide expanse of his bathroom, she made her way over to it, the clickety clack of her low heels on the floor helping to distract her from the eyes she felt on her back.

He watched her, taking another sip of his beer. He watched her in her suit. That fitted suit that tried and failed to hide her voluptuous frame. He wondered if he'd start from the bottom or the top when he began to take it off.

Joss walked back over to the tub, dropping his towel to the floor. She saw him take one final sip of his beer. He continued to look at her. He looked at her like she wasn't leaving the way she came in. Like he knew everything to do to make her scream. Like a lion sizing up his prey. Like she was the ultimate dessert and he was going to lick the bowl clean. She didn't know by what miracle she was able to find her voice. "Need anything else, Mr. Forgetful?" She kept her eyes on his face when he placed the beer bottle on the edge of the tub and stood, dripping wet, to his full height.

This was her last chance. She knew it. She hadn't come here for this. She hadn't come to break down the last flimsy wall between them. The last thing keeping her from fully surrendering to what she felt for him. The last thing keeping her from having to deal with reality. With all the problems being in love with an off-the-grid vigilante was going to create. It scared her. It terrified her like nothing else in her life ever had. So she ran. It was emotionally exhausting and unlike her but she always, always ran.

And since it was what she did, she turned away from him and took a step toward the open bathroom door, toward her safe place, away from the immediate danger. She closed her eyes and died a little inside when she felt his arm wrap around her waist and draw her back to him. Her last ditch effort had failed. He wasn't letting her run anymore. Her back to him, she shuddered at the whispered "Yes" in her left ear. At the kisses now raining down her neck. At the damp hands running the length of her torso. It was over. Done. She could stop now.

John felt her body tremble as he worked his way back up her neck to nibble on her earlobe. His hands moved up to her shoulders and slid her suit jacket down her arms before tossing it to the side. He pulled her burgundy shirt out of her pants and told her what he knew she already knew. What he wanted her to hear. From his lips. Finally. "I love you, Joss. I've always loved you." He felt her body tremble even harder and placed a kiss on the back of her neck before taking the clip holding her tightly curled hair up and dropping it on the rug. "I want to show you." He turned to watch her, his hands, in the mirror on the wall opposite the tub as he started from the bottom and released the buttons of her shirt. Her eyes were still closed, her body still shook. His own hands began to tremble the more of her he uncovered.

The shirt unbuttoned, he slid that, too, down her arms and off. The belt went next. Her eyes. They were open now. Looking at his through the mirror. They were hazy, hooded.

They spurred him on.

He leaned down and kissed between her shoulder blades. Her purple cotton bra met the floor next. They both watched as he cupped her breasts, ghosting his index fingers across each nipple as she bit her bottom lip. They watched as his left hand ventured from her breast and slid down her stomach before unbuttoning her slacks. His hand soon disappeared inside them and she went weak in her knees. He watched her fighting to watch him, struggling to keep her eyes from rolling into the back of her head as her fists balled at her sides, her mouth fell open, and her body grew more pliable.

The water had grown tepid, his elevated body heat making it feel colder than it was. His body shivered as the last of the water evaporated from his skin and anticipation stampeded through him. He wanted to get out of the water and into his bed. Drawing his hand back up, he would make up for leaving her hanging. It was just a preview, a prelude. The show would begin in approximately three minutes. He turned her around and lifted her at the waist. She immediately wrapped her legs around his and her arms encircled his neck as he stepped out of the tub. Her eyes never left his as he walked out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints, the towel forgotten on the floor.

Joss wrapped her legs around him tighter as he carried her and took hold of his mouth, plying his lips apart with her own and snaking her tongue over and around his. He'd brought her close to the edge in the bathroom and left her starving, thirsty for more.

His stride faltered, one of his hands shooting out to keep them from running into the wall. Relying on training and his own intimate knowledge of his living quarters, he managed to steer them into the kitchen and set her on a bar stool. It was another matter entirely to pull himself from her clutches, and it took him a long, heavenly minute to untangle their bodies. He was down to one minute, fifteen seconds.

Panting and yearning and not giving a single damn that she was, she watched as he rounded the kitchen island and opened a cabinet door. Even without the tailored suit as a backdrop, there was significant swagger in his walk. Strength in his slender frame. Power in his thighs. Grace in his shoulders and arms. Eyeing him openly, she appreciated the physical evidence of all he'd put his body through, the storybook of scars he was still adding pages to. The tautness of his bare back. The half moons of his ass. She couldn't wait to drag the pads of her fingers across every inch of his flushed skin.

She watched as he retrieved a water bottle and proceeded to fill it with a few cubes of ice and to the brim with water. As he turned back toward her, she scanned the lean length of him again, coochie hiccuping at the sight of that delectably enticing dick that stopped just shy of being way too damn big.

He set the bottle next to her on the counter. "You might need this." His tongue darted out between his lips before he swooped back down and tried his best to swallow her tongue. And because they had been calling to him the moment he set eyes on them, he lowered his head to devour those brown and perfectly round breasts. He moved from one to the other, laving his tongue in circles over her nipples while reaching down to remove her short boots and trouser socks. They landed unceremoniously to the floor before he slid her off the stool and back into his arms, grabbing the water bottle and whisking them off toward his bed. Time was up.

Climbing onto his knees, he settled them at the center and laid her on her back before depositing the bottle of water on the nightstand. Wasting no time, he pulled her pants and panties down her legs in one fell swoop before spreading her wide and taking his first sip of her. She pressed her head back into the mattress as pleasure began to lap at her in waves, going further each time, reaching higher and higher. He continued to push her along her erotic journey, whipping his tongue back and forth. Fast and slow. In and out. High and low. Circling and sucking and pulling. She clawed at his bed linens, let her cries echo in the cavernous space of his loft, and pounded her fists into the mattress as the euphoria began to overtake her. John in turn set his speed to rapid fire and kept it there until his name was but a pitiful squeak from her lips and she flooded his mouth.

He crawled up her body and hovered, watching her face intensely. Watched what he'd done to her, committed to memory what made her face contort in agony-like pleasure, what made her body convulse, what rendered her absolutely speechless as she tried desperately to catch her breath. Love and lust blinded him. Made him want to do it again. He continued to watch her face, her eyes as they finally opened and focused on him. The surrender in them, the trust. Abiding love and terrible lust.

_Again_, he thought. He wanted to see that again. So again he went, adding fingers this time. One. Two...Three. He wanted her voracious for all of him, everything he was going to give her. Her staccato-like pants, her strangled cries of his name like a freestyle melody spurred him on. He listened to the intonations, the crescendos and decrescendos, the cadences and chants. Having already learned her, he stopped. It was time. He rose from between her thighs and kissed his way up her body, dipping his tongue in her belly button before lavishing attention to the scars on her stomach she'd first shared with him months ago. Onward he went, on to her peaked nipples, soaking them in his mouth, teasing them with his teeth, blowing moist air over them until she shivered and hissed. He felt her fingers massage his scalp and pull at his head until his mouth aligned with hers. They kissed slowly, deeply, savoring the richness of the sensations, the torture of the moment. She lowered her right hand between them and grabbed at his weighty length, enjoying the moan he released into her mouth.

Covering her hand with his, he broke their kiss and kept his eyes trained on hers as he teased her clit and slit with the head. Only for a moment. Because she'd taken his patience. Slowly, he pressed his way inside, gritting his teeth and setting his jaw to keep control of himself. "Joss." The fit was so tight he almost quit life right then and there. He rocked his hips forward and back, slowly, deliberately, invading her inch by inch until there was no space for air between them. Until there was no possible way of knowing where she began and he ended. A minute passed, maybe even two. He just couldn't stop staring. Into her eyes, all over her face. At the brown highlights he could see in her hair against the backdrop of his black sheets. And he couldn't stop feeling. The way her body readily accepted him, pulled at him, gripped him. The way her hands ran up and down his chest, around his shoulders, and down his back. Wanting to feel more, knowing there was more to her to discover, he withdrew a few inches before pushing back in, repeatedly, increasing the force behind his thrusts and the amount he withdrew each time. "Joss." Again and again he worked his way out before plunging back in. Slow and hard. Gentle then hard. Again and again her name left his lips. Over and over she inhaled sharply and let out a heady gasp as the pleasure and tension mounted. As she floated into that well-known but indescribable nirvanic dimension. It wasn't long until he broke out into a sprint, competing against himself to see who could make her climax the hardest. Building and building into what she thought would be her final explosion.

It wasn't.

On and on he went, slower then faster before cycling through all over again. Only pausing long enough to give her a moment to ride the wave of her orgasm so that she could take the next one. Barely. He shifted her body this way and that, aiming for a new angle to explore every time, aiming to pull a new sound from her lips to commit to memory. She thought he came once or twice but she was lost in a haze of sexual intoxication where she couldn't keep track. She swore Viagra would take one look at him and run screaming in the other direction.

Not knowing how long they'd been at it, twenty hours or twenty minutes, she pushed him over onto his back and slowed it down, working her hips up and down, around and around, reestablishing the eye contact they'd lost and regained several times over the course of their lovemaking. This was going to be it. Finally. Because she wasn't sure she could take anymore. Determined to drain him dry, she observed. She listened. She felt. When his eyelids began to droop, when the seconds between his groans dwindled, when the pressure from his wandering hands increased, she leaned down until her mouth was at his ear. "Let go." She sat back up, frenzied her pace, matched her moans to his, and watched as his eyes screwed shut, his hips shot up from the bed, and a guttural roar came from deep within him. She stopped her movements only after milking him until there was nothing left and fell onto his chest, feeling like she'd just finished a marathon. At some point, she felt his arms come up around her and reveled in the comfort and lingering bliss.

John ran his hands, the pads of his fingers, lightly up and down her back as he came back to himself. Her hair tickling his chin, her soft, sweat-drenched body sticking to his, he listened to the television now audible in the background and idly wondered if it would always be like this. The passion. The eruption. He wondered if there was more to life than just the numbers. If he'd ever truly been happy before this. Before he had both her and a purpose. He pulled his chin toward his chest to look at her when her voice broke through his reverie.

"Thank you."

Confused, he waited for her to continue. If anything, he should be thanking her. For giving a wounded man like him a chance. For giving him a reason not to eat that bullet so many moons ago. For saving him so many times since.

She lifted her head from his chest, remembering what had brought her here in the first place. "What you did for my mom. For me." She felt tears beginning to brew. Damn sex was making her emotional. "I really hate you sometimes, you know that? That was too much." She sniffled and quickly wiped at her eyes, looking everywhere else but at him, not used to anyone seeing her tears.

He turned her face back toward him and looked between her eyes. "You're welcome."

She smiled and sniffed again, shaking her head at him. And just like that, all the fight, all the resolve built up within her all this time, was gone. "I do, too, John." She watched him cock his head slightly in bewilderment. "I love you, too."

He smiled back at her and lifted his head to place a kiss to her forehead.

Settling back down against him, she pushed them back. For now. Reality's cold, hard truths. They may have finally torn that wall down but another one had erected itself in its place. This one stood between them and the outside world. Between legality and illegality. Between his present and their future.

"What is it, Joss?" He felt her stiffen as she realized he was reading her thoughts.

"Later." They could come down later.

"It's okay. Tell me."

She kept her face pressed to his chest and closed her eyes momentarily. He wanted the Band-Aid ripped off. Maybe it was better that way. "I don't know what to tell people. My own mother. My son. I know we want it to but I don't think this is going to work."

He knew. He knew everything that troubled her, everything that kept him from confessing his feelings sooner. He was off the grid. She wasn't. His paper trail ended sometime late 2010. Hers was still active. She had family and friends who would want to meet him, get to know him. There was only so much of himself to give them. She was a non-practicing attorney. A detective. He trampled over the law every day of his life. There was only one way it would work. It was in no way foolproof but it was all they had for now. Until he and Finch found the redemptive peace their souls needed and he gave it all up. "We do what we're doing now. We lie. Omit." He stared at the high ceiling, continuing to stroke her cooling skin. "Whatever we do wrong, we're doing the right thing. If we weren't, you wouldn't be here."

She listened to his words. Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. That's what it all boiled down to. That had been her defense from the moment she'd let him and Finch go after Snow had him shot. He was right, though. She wouldn't be here. In this bed with him. Out on the streets helping him. She could sleep at night doing all that she did wrong because she knew it was right. If it ever went south for them, if they were ever caught, she wouldn't regret it. She wouldn't regret one single life they had saved. She could look her mother, her son, in the eyes without shame and know that they would always, always be proud.

She raised her head from his chest and searched his face. "When did you get to be so wise?" She laughed as he looked as though he was thinking really hard.

"Last year I think. Or it might have been the year before that..."

She continued to smile while she shook her head at him. Who in the hell would have thought she'd end up here? With him of all people? She watched as his face turned serious again.

"We'll tell them if we have to. Your mom, Taylor. We'll deal with it." He sighed and brought his hand up to her face. "Besides, I won't be doing this forever." He didn't know how long he would continue. How long Finch would. One thing had changed, though. He was now thinking about it, the end, a life after the numbers, when he hadn't once before. "There is one thing, though." He watched as she raised her eyebrows in question. "I'm hungry. You?"

"You just made me burn off everything I ate before I got here, so yeah. I'm hungry."

He smiled, loving the lightness in her mood, her spirit. Loving how wild her hair looked. Loving every damn thing he got to do to her and would be able to do again. And again. "We'll do something quick. I know you have to go." He looked toward the digital alarm clock to his right next to the water bottle they didn't stop long enough to touch. It was just after 10:30.

"You kicking me out?"

"You have to get home, don't you?"

"I should, but," she placed a peck on his lips. "You got a bed right here."

He growled a bit as he flipped them over. "I get to keep you with me?"

She ran her hand through his hair and marveled. He was such a beautiful man. Those eyes that gave her life and could turn right around and take it away. That smile he was so stingy with in front of others but gave so freely to her. Those eyelashes, cheekbones, lips. That jawline and imperfect nose. The grey concentrated at his temples, sprinkled throughout the rest of his hair. His heart. It was enchanting. All of it. So beyond excessively sexy. "Mmhm. Taylor's on spring break. Wanted to spend a couple days with his dad. And I can always go in late." She drew her hand to his face and ran her thumb over his lips. "Or not at all." Yeah, he had turned her all the way out. It was a real thing. Because she never did that. She never took time off. But it was a new year. New things and all that.

At that moment, he swore to himself on everything that was holy and unholy that as long as she was walking this earth she would want for nothing except more of him. He'd make it his new mission until she needed him as much as he needed her.

She swallowed. His eyes again. He wasn't saying a word but she heard everything. Echoed the sentiment. She had never been more scared of losing him and she absolutely hadn't wanted this. To get in this deep. To become this powerless. She'd been fighting it almost from the beginning. He could hurt her in a multitude of new ways now. And vice versa.

He kissed her then with a kind of intensity that wasn't earthly in nature. In a way that was immeasurable and all-consuming. Food would wait.

* * *

She had wanted breakfast for a late night snack. So it was what she got. Scrambled eggs and toast. Light but satisfying. They lay on his couch together watching television, his arms wrapped around her, mimicking their souls' now permanent embrace. It was well after midnight but neither of them were ready for sleep. They hadn't gotten enough of one another to fuel their dreams yet. They laughed together, Dorothy, Blanche, Rose, and Sophia keeping them company.

The End

**Thank you for reading. :)**


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